


Vulnerability

by bob_eclipsa_smith



Series: The Altean Witch [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, I can't believe I did this, Vrepit sa, What is my life?, Whatever. Here it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 15:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12460305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bob_eclipsa_smith/pseuds/bob_eclipsa_smith
Summary: Haggar is rarely overwhelmed, and it's even rarer when she's rendered afraid, but the Altean princess is a crushing force of something else entirely.Takes place in the finale of season 2.





	Vulnerability

**Author's Note:**

> What? What is this? I've written another one? I must really hate myself. But here it is, the sequel that no one asked for. I wrote it on a whim and simply decided to post it on a similar whim. Also, I love Haggar even if she's a complete bitch.
> 
>  
> 
> So...enjoy? I hope it's not complete garbage.

This is the end. It had to be. It was. It is.

There is no sign to precede what is to happen next. No warning to announce the sudden maelstrom that is to rip through the empire, ultimately tearing everything apart, ultimately demolishing everything brutal piece by brutal piece, ultimately raising bitter hell, and with it, the hottest flames of the darkness and most insidious depths of hell.

This was brutal.

This was _vulnerability_ at its finest.

This was actual death incarnate.

***

_It begins suddenly and swiftly. Haggar is unaware and unexpecting of her visitor.  
_

***

The high priestess stands above the circle, her druids residing upon each individual cardinal point. Before her, the war rages on, friend helps friend, the team works together in the utmost harmony, and enemies do battle, each fighting ceaselessly for control.

Each pushing and pushing to see their own desires met.

_But like hell is she going to surrender._

The four druids look to her expectantly, darkened faces hidden behind nearly featureless masks, painted eyes gleaming from the whiteness of their features; she can practically sense the anticipation evaporating from their cloaks.

They want the paladins of Voltron dead as much as she does.

But they're going to have to adhere to her rules if they are to bring pride to the Galra empire and to Emperor Zarkon.

For she is sly and she is cunning. And she has faithfully stood besides the emperor for ten thousand years without fail.

So yes, Haggar is confident in her abilities and her wisdom. She confides in the mighty empire and her equally powerful emperor.

Haggar will not fail. The druids know. Why else would they follow her?

***

_The battle rages on. Voltron is a bond built on unyielding trust and familial affection, Zarkon is fervid strength and equally tireless energy. A potent greed. A desire for infinite power. Voltron’s a blue light beam of ethereal energy. Zarkon a purple stream of vehement flame._

***

The maelstrom surrounds Haggar, darkness ripping around her with powerful winds of hellish magnitude. She stands her ground, extending a wrinkled purple hand out as to instinctively shield herself from the crushing force. Her cloak billows around her, responding to the might of her druids. Throughout all this chaos, Haggar’s hood remains intact, shielding her...undesirable features... from the universe.

“Summon the energy again!” The witch demands. “We must fight beside our emperor!”

Because in the end, that was all that mattered. In the end, nothing even compared to the wants and needs of Emperor Zarkon. There was her and there was Zarkon. But she was nothing. Nothing but a willing servant to someone beyond her, beyond anyone. He was a deity. _He was life itself.  
_

A flicker of something indiscernible comes to the forefront of her mind for a fleeting tick, a voice softer than hers caressing and pure, yet painfully familiar. Why did it hurt so much? Was it feeling? What was it? ( _it is so much more than you can understand. it is life itself._ )

And then it's gone. As quickly as it flickered into being it's receded to the back of her mind where it sinks into darkness once more. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of existence.

Haggar dismisses it as a momentary lapse in concentration, and channels the energy of her druids once more.

Because in the end, the thoughts of times past mean nothing. She cares not.

Not anymore.

There is Haggar and there is Emperor Zarkon.

Nothing else matters.

_It's time to show these lousy excuses for paladins just what they are dealing with._

In one fell swoop, Haggar focuses the energy into one vehement point, a concentrated ball of darkness.

Cracked lips pull up into a deranged grin and glowing yellow eyes gleam all the more brighter.

“Attack!” She screams hoarsely.

And just like that, she releases it.

***

 _The Altean princess is fearless; she’ll give her that. Feeble fighting skills but good reflexes and a hell of a motivation behind those hardened glass blue eyes of hers. Love, Haggar scoffs, is a pointless emotion. One that only weakens and sidetracks from the ultimate promise of power. Allura, for some reason doesn't understand that. She's much too naïve_.

***

She doesn't see it when the first pod crashes headlong into one of her druids, doesn't hear his unearthly cry of shock and pain as he's ripped from the circle and thrown headlong into the empty space below.

However, she most certainly feels his absence.

It's like a dagger has been thrust into her stomach, blade shearing skin, muscle and tissue alike, tearing and tearing and tearing skin, muscle and tissue alike.

Haggar cries out in instinctive agony as the energy orb flickers in and out of being, fighting the involuntary urge to quell the pain by dropping the spell completely.

But she doesn't. The Galra Empire is counting on her. _Zarkon_ is counting on her.

The momentary flicker of something unearthly familiar makes itself known yet again. The sweet, soft voice caresses her dark heart once more, innocent and pure as a tiny bell ( _Don’t you think it’s lovely, Zarkon? Alfor has come to the wedding. Oh! And there's his wife, carrying Allura! Do you think we'll ever have...children?)_. The pixie voice erupts into heartfelt laughter, and Haggar is momentarily distracted. Her anger and hate disrupted by confusion.

And then the second druid is compromised. The imaginary dagger in her stomach twists painfully. And the tinkling laugh of someone else dissipates into nothingness yet again.

Haggar snarls in radiating abhorrence, fists clenched into tight little balls.

“Attack!” She orders in a hissing growl, sounding nothing at all like the voice she keeps hearing in her head ( _she isn't quite sure why that bothers her so_ ).

The two remaining druids abide by her orders, rushing towards the three who have disrupted her ceremony and compromised her sanity.

They're deft, quick in their movements. Haggar watches unashamedly as the druids flicker in and out of existence, and the intruders mindlessly jab and punch and kick at thin air. Haggar lets out a mirthless chuckle.

She watches as one of the larger figures lopes towards the lanky druid, his thick arms, though rippling with muscular power, are much too slow to do any real damage.

She regards the second fight with mild interest as her druid shoots lightning bolts of fervid purple energy towards an unfortunate Galra soldier, the latter leaping to avoid the deadly attacks.

And then there's _her_.

Haggar feels her behind her, feels that crushing need for retribution. She feels her grief, feels her absolute hatred. Princess Allura is an anomaly. Formed by a war much older than she was, and molded by an anger born from warring sides.

Yes, if Haggar is to describe her, Princess Allura is grief incarnate, patheticness twisted into solid hatred, sadness and pain contorted into an absolute need for revenge.

Haggar's lips twist into a grin as she wills her form into dust, only to materialize behind a frustrated Allura just as she swings her bo staff. The Altean princess turns around, potent rage and evident hatred gleaming in those blue, blue eyes of hers. She lets out a war cry, a cry born of frustration and tears, and lowers her bo staff once more. Haggar dodges effortlessly, dancing rings around the princess. Jolts of black energy shoot from her fingertips...but somehow, Allura resists the entire time.

***

_She's relentless, overcome with her foolish grief and equally ridiculous love for those pitiful paladins of Voltron. Haggar spots no traces of tears in her hardened blue eyes, however. Sees naught but pure determination as Allura dodges and dodges, attacks and attacks. For a moment, Haggar is uncertain._

***

In one moment of weakness, Haggar underestimates the crushing strength of the Alteans, and especially that of this undaunted little princess.

Haggar is thrown in the air, landing painfully on the cement ground. Her hood falls to the ground, and her identity is revealed ( _Zarkon, this is Honerva. She's the best alchemist on Altea_.)

 _Shut up,_ Haggar hisses at the returning memories. _My name is **Haggar**. **Honerva** is dead. She's **dead**._

As Haggar struggles to a seated position, she hears Allura’s innocent gasp as she lays eyes upon the witch without the mask.

“You're...  _Altean_?!” She chokes.

That does it. Haggar is up in a half tick, throwing energy beam after energy beam at the Altean princess.

That's _not_ who she is.

 _Zap_!

That's _not_ who she is.

 _Zing_!

She is _not_ Altean.

 _Crack_!

She is _not_ her.

 _Zang_!

_She is not Honerva!_

Haggar cries out in a fitting rage. _She_ had done this. Allura had to die. She had to die. She figured out Haggar’s secret.

 _She_ _needed_ _to_ _die_.

Allura's shocked expression morphs quickly into hatred once more, perfect lips curling up in a scowl that marred her pretty features.

Haggar remembers being _pretty_ once.

But no longer.

She fires with everything she has left. All the pain, all the hatred, all the grief she had once had; Haggar channels it into one single beam.

And Allura is hit.

She's hit.

But she doesn't falter.

 _Why_ _doesn't she falter?_

That's...

" _Impossible_..."

Haggar becomes uncertain for the second time in ten thousand years. The first time being brawling with this warrior princess for the first time.

Allura's _absorbing_ her magic.

 _Impossible_.

And then she rises, covered in a metallic magenta glow. Haggar’s dead heart falters, glowing eyes gleaming with an unfamiliar fear at this unyielding force of determination with the crystal blue eyes.

Allura stares down Haggar with the authority of a true leader, her crystal blue gaze unwavering and solid. Haggar knows at this moment, that the Altean Princess is a power greater than any other. She is a formidable force all her own.

(“ _Honerva! I'd like you to meet Allura!”  
_

_Honerva looks down upon the little bundle in Alfor's arms, seeing innocent blue eyes staring back at her. Tiny lips curl into a small smile, and the infant gives a bubbly laugh. Honerva chuckles, and reaches out a hand for little Allura to grasp. She does so willingly, bringing the other Altean’s hand into her mouth.  
_

_Behind her, Zarkon laughs, his hand squeezing her shoulder fondly. “I think she likes you, Honerva.”  
_

_Honerva smiles, and presses a small kiss to the baby’s head of silver curls, thoughts of children of her own dancing in her head_.)

There is none of the innocence in Allura’s face now, none of the infantile affection present in those crystal blue eyes now.

For some reason, this saddens Haggar.

But she doesn't let it show, instead masking her uncanny sorrow with brusque force. The witch sends another jet of light Allura’s way. The princess absorbs it, developing a sort of tolerance for it.

Haggar snarls at Allura.

Allura stares defiantly back.

And then pain shoots through the former Altean alchemist, forcing her to the ground. Princess Allura of Altea stands before her, bathed in a glowing light that could only be quintessence. Her crystal blue eyes are unwavering. Lips pulled into a defiant yet imposing frown.

She speaks with power, authority. Haggar suddenly hates her more than anything.

“You will never destroy an innocent world!” She cries in her oh-so-lovely voice. Haggar stares at her impassively, forcing a death glare her way.

Allura doesn't flinch.

Instead she causes the bitter end.

She unleashes the power in a single powerful punch, setting the cavern alight with purple quintessence. The light is equal to that of a nuclear explosion, lightning of ethereal energy shooting unbidden to various places. Haggar watches the princess as she's engulfed in it, but she's by no standards rendered weakened.

At this moment, Haggar finally realizes…

_This is the end. It had to be. It was. It is_

_There had been no sign to precede what was to happen next. No warning to announce the sudden maelstrom that was to rip through the empire, ultimately tearing everything apart, ultimately demolishing everything brutal piece by brutal piece, ultimately raising bitter hell and with it, the hottest flames of the darkest and the most insidious depths of hell._

_This was brutal.  
_

_This was death incarnate.  
_

_This was **vulnerability** at its finest.  
_

( _Go_ , _Honerva_.) The tiny voice within tells her. ( _Get out of here._ )

Upon seeing that she had nowhere to go, and no chance at winning this battle, Haggar flees.

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
